Changing Spaces Holiday Marathon Highly readable account of a pixie-ish home decorating diva who, along with a woman carpenter friend, works to satisfy her master, the narrator. M/f+, BDSM, spoof, lingerie, toys, consensual, reluctant. *************** Chapter I - While You Were Out Up to and including Wednesday I was thrilled to be coming home from a week-long computer convention in Las Vegas. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I had been watching the airline stewardess, a lithe, sexy woman, bend and twist to serve the passengers, and I wanted nothing more than to get home and bury my erect dick in my new wife. She met me at the door with a great grin on her face and a big passionate kiss. "Come on," she said, tugging at my hand. Maybe you've seen that cable show? You know, where the husband goes away for a weekend and the wife and a remodeling team redo a room in the house? It's like that other popular show where couples work on each other's houses, then come back home for a grand unveiling. My wife Mindy in fact looks a lot like that host on that second show. She's a thin, pixie-ish woman, always smiling, bundle of energy. Thin-waisted, tight butt, heavy-breasted, and a shaggy, very stylish short hair-do. Mindy loves to decorate and remodel. She has a tremendous talent for color and an eye for design. She's a talented seamstress/tailor, always reupholstering something, taking in her own clothes, cuffing my trousers. She haunts the weekend garage sales for bargains. I had already detected the slight scent of fresh paint and some thing more acrid. Plastic, maybe? She led me down the back kitchen stairs to the basement. "Ta da!" Our barebones basement had been transformed. It was never very hospitable, with concrete walls and bare floor joists overhead. But now it looked like a fashionable family room. New carpet (the plastic smell) adorned the floor; finished walls featured fresh paint in an unusual warm tone. The ceiling had been finished. The TV/VCR was in a new-to-us boxy armoire, with three drawers under it. There was a desk with straight-backed chair, a wooden slat recliner, a huge dartboard on one wall. Facing the TV was a futon-style sofa, behind an unusually heavy, boxy coffee table. Even the supporting post in the room had been carpeted over. "This is awesome," I said, bounding around the room, glancing into the adjoining bathroom, taking in the window treatments and more. Mindy's needle and thread had turned out stylish curtains covering our high windows. "You didn't do all this work by yourself?" "I had a contractor do the ceiling and help with the walls. And the carpet was put down by professionals," she said, one hand holding the newly carpeted post. "But I did the rest, with some help from Amy Lynn. " Mindy and Amy Lynn were long-time friends; beautiful with long dark hair, Amy Lynn was a trained carpenter. "You like it?" she asked, fishing for more compliments "How much did you spend?" "Under four figures, of course." "Let me show you how much I like it," I growled, seizing her up in my arms. She pushed me away. "Tonight's bad for me," she said coyly. While I was disappointed (read: frustrated), I let the matter drop. I was so pleased with the tremendous amount of work she had done. Truth be told, I was very tired myself. Guess I can't control monthly cycles, I thought. Monday and Tuesday were busy catching up on work. Wednesday afternoon, Mindy called asking when I'd be getting home. "Soon," I said. "I've worked essentially 11 days in a row. I'm out of here early today." "Good," my sexy wife breathed across the wires, "I've got a surprise for you." I broke several traffic laws getting home. When I came in, she was nowhere in sight, but once doors closed and briefcase dropped behind the sofa, Mindy made her appearance. She wore a diaphanous half-skirt, starting at each hip and trailing behind her, almost like a cape. It swept from a lavender bustier that Mindy had precisely fitted to her trim figure, highlighting her cleavage. Matching panties were pulled snug, highlighting her sex. She wore 2-inch strappy heels, and no stockings. Heavy make-up highlighted her cheekbones and delightful large eyes. She kissed me on the cheek and then pressed a cocktail glass into my hand. "Here, drink this while you change." I threw my clothes all over the bedroom, slugged down the vodka, ran a toothbrush through my mouth in record time, and pulled on the fitted karate pants she had left out for me. Some time ago, she had carefully taken them in as well, fitting my crotch especially snug. She said she loved the way the material outlined my erect cock and balls. She led me down those kitchen stairs, and I thought, a-ha, we're going to break in the new room. But what met my eyes dazzled me anew. It was the same room, but somehow different. The warm rosy walls were turned an angry purple. I saw that the usual lamps were dark, that she had turned on only the sconce lighting which had been fitted with a few purple bulbs. It was a very different mood: darker but more intimate. Delicate candles burned throughout, throwing off a heady fragrance and adding to the mood. The futon mattress had been pushed off the frame. The frame unit had been placed atop the heavy coffee table, and laid open. A thin mattress lay atop it. "See?" She was looking for my reaction. "Multi-purpose." she said simply. This was a bona-fide dungeon. Mindy handed me a thin belt strap. I could see it was made of seatbelt material and a simple clasp, identical to airline restraints. From the factory in the next town, I surmised and absently ran a finger over the four rows of stitches. No one would escape these. She strode over to the futon rack, where belt straps lay across the body of it. "How may I serve you, master?" she asked demurely, casting her eyes downward. "Assume the position, slave." Mindy climbed upon the futon rack, centering herself. I drew the first belt across her waist, checked how it passed under the rack, and then clicked it into its fastener. I pulled the loose strap tight and watched her tummy compress slightly. "Hands," I growled, and Mindy extended her hands over her head. Smaller belts fastened her wrists to the rack. Two more small belts held her biceps. As I pulled tighter, she emitted a tiny coo of protest. At the foot of the unit, I paused a moment to situate her skirting, then fastened straps to ankles and just above her knees. This bird wasn't going anywhere. As I pulled a final belt across her hips, she whispered, "Master, I have more for you. See the chain around my neck?" There was a thin chain and hanging from its center, a key. Mindy lifted her head enough for me to remove the chain. Her eyes drifted over to the TV armoire and for the first time I noticed the top drawer had a lock fitted. I applied key, and opened the drawer. It was a virtual toy box - adult toys, to be sure. I removed a few items and went back to my tethered wife, squirming only fractionally in her tight bondage. "You like that, don't you, princess?" I hissed at her. "Tied down, open for my viewing, open for my touch..." I brushed her arm above her and she gasped. "Are you... are you pleased with your slave?" she asked coyly, a slight smile on her face. In response, I slapped the heavy white ball gag onto her chest. All mirth fled from her face. "Oh, no, no please master, not that. It's much too early. I want to please you... NO..." and the rest was muffled as I popped the large white ball behind her teeth, and pulled the straps, fastening the ball gag around her head. Mindy has a very large sensual mouth, and has pleased me with it for untold hours. She claims to hate the ball gag, but it never fails that while fastened into it, she has unbelievably passionate orgasms. "I'll take my pleasure when and where I want it, slave," I told her as I finished the buckle. "When I came home Sunday, I was pleased with you and anxious for release. But you held back. You wanted to initiate this room tonight. In the meantime, I've been horny for a week and a half. A good wife needs to be attentive. You need to understand your duties as my sex slave." Her eyes widened at the telling, but as I say, her nipples were growing turgid through the thin material of her bustier, and I could almost smell the wetness between her hot legs. My cock was an iron rod. I ran hands over those arms, those full breasts, flat stomach, hips, and thighs. I held her firm calves. I watched her shake her sandaled feet, helpless to move. I carefully tugged down the bustier, freeing those luscious tits. Then I held up a small vial. She groaned when she saw what it was, bucking anew in her straps, shaking her head to persuade me "no." But I wasn't to be swayed. I slowly opened the bottle, and with agonizing precision brushed the clear liquid across the erect tits and areolas. I knew that in a few moments the stuff would super-heat to incredible intensity, and her breasts would feel aflame. I held up the vibrator for her to see, then set it on its slowest speed. I carefully laid it across her pantied crotch. While she struggled for better purchase, her hips moved only fractionally due to the strapping. She was good and thoroughly frustrated. And so, I took my leave. I went into the adjoining bath and had myself a hot, soapy shower. As I shut the glass door, I heard her nasally impotent shrieking at the assaults to her most intimate places. After a short shower, I toweled off, put on a robe, and returned to the dungeon. My prize's huge eyes were half-lidded as she was overwhelmed by sensation. If you've seen the woman on that cable remodeling show, you know she has terrific expression-full eyes. Same with Mindy. I rarely blindfolded her, so I can enjoy those eyes. But still, I crossed by the open toy drawer and took a wide red scarf. I placed one end in each of my wife's outstretched hands, and she held it taut. Should the events get too intense for her, she would flail the scarf and drop one or both ends to signal the end of our play. I removed the vibrator, clicked the speed up one notch, and replaced it on her now-soppy pantied crotch. Her brief squeal was quickly followed by a low throaty groan. I undid the straps at her thighs, but not her ankles, and she pulled her thighs together to try to trap the chattering vibe. I undid the tight straps that held her elbows, and then the belt that was driving her crazy, the tight strap at her waist. She held knees apart as I roamed over her pussy with the vibrator. With one pull, I ripped the panties from one hip (she could repair them later) working the thick head of the vibrator into her hot hole. But no more than a inch or two for my slave. Throwing off the robe, I climbed onto the awkward rack. Her eyes widened as I towered over her with my thick, curved cock. As I massaged her heavy breasts, and her eyes lidded over, I heard the plastic cock slip from its precarious position and fall to the carpet below. Her eyes flew open and an impatient moan escaped from around the bulbous gag sealing her mouth. As I slid my thick cock into her tight, wet, waiting box, those eyes closed completely, and with just one or two strokes of my cock, she was coming, coming, coming in a flood of juice and emotion. Arms pulled against the restraints, teeth sunk into the rubber gag as she enjoyed an explosive orgasm. I held the position inside her and massaged her breasts and traced her large areolas. When she seemed to catch her breath, I resumed my pistoning in and out between her legs, slowly ratcheting my speed, slamming in and out, banging her well and good. She moaned and squealed around the gag, her wrists and ankles pulling against the restraints, and in time, I thrust as deep as I could, and blasted my heavy load into her. It was the start of a memorable holiday weekend.
Changing Spaces Holiday Marathon Highly readable account of a pixie-ish home decorating diva who, along with a woman carpenter friend, works to satisfy her master, the narrator. M/f+, BDSM, spoof, lingerie, toys, consensual, reluctant. *************** Chapter II - Changing Spaces Thursday Over breakfast Thursday morning I learned more about Mindy's remodeling friend, Amy Lynn. Certainly I had met her, but Mindy clued me in on how Amy Lynn had been raised by strict military parents. She had not even dated until she was 18. Maturing while not allowed any male company, she had experimented with female company. She had found it to her liking. Though she told Mindy she felt bi-sexual, her preference was probably women. Amy Lynn had enjoyed a good relationship with Gennifer, an attractive, earthy, vivacious blonde; and in fact Amy Lynn, Gen and Mindy had all attended a kick-box exercise clinic for a few weeks. But it seemed something in the relationship had sent Gen away, and Amy Lynn didn't know what to do. Her main construction season over, she was happy to assist Mindy in our basement remodeling. Over time Mindy let her in on our penchant for bondage and domination. One night last week after an especially grueling day (and beers on an empty stomach), Amy Lynn revealed her particular fetish: denigration. Amy Lynn enjoyed being humiliated. That personality quirk had spooked Gennifer, who had left her friend and lover. With a second cup of coffee, Mindy and I conspired. Mindy's mom throws a great open-house style Thanksgiving dinner, inviting many friends and family. As soon as Amy Lynn arrived, Mindy bundled her out of the living room with school-girl whispers. They were gone a long time. About an hour later, Mindy materialized on my arm with her disarming grin. "We're all set," she said. I nodded, excited about what Friday would bring. *************************** At exactly one o'clock Friday afternoon, our doorbell rang, and Mindy walked to answer the door. I was not present upstairs, awaiting our guest downstairs. Amy Lynn must have been puzzled as the door opened inward with seemingly no one there. Mindy's voice said, "Come in," and Amy Lynn stepped in as the door shut. Mindy had her back to the door, and locked the deadbolt with hands behind her back. She turned to show her friend how her arms were tied behind her with loop after loop of rope. "Wow," Amy Lynn said as she unbuttoned and removed her coat. While she wore a dark red long sleeve blouse, jeans, and heeled boots, Mindy's outfit was much more dramatic. She wore a black mini-dress with a sheer virtually see-through nylon bodice, an uplifting black bra underneath. The top was sleeveless, but Mindy had elbow-length black gloves. The white rope contrasted marvelously. The hem of the dress brushed the tops of her thighs, and about 2 inches south of that began the tops of thigh-high nylon stockings. Mindy also wore her classic patent-black 5-inch pumps. [PHOTO] "You look great, too. Now, you're ready for this, right? No backing out now," Mindy told her friend. "I'm ready." With her hands tethered as they were behind her, Mindy backed up to a side table, crouched slightly and pulled out a drawer. Her grasping fingers found what she was seeking, and she strode to Amy Lynn, turned her back, and lifted hands behind her. "Here." Amy Lynn took the heavy black leather collar, already attached to a 9-foot leather leash. Under Mindy's bemused gaze, she faced the hall mirror and brought the collar up around her throat, hesitated just a moment, then fastened the three buckles, pulling the tabs as tight as she could. The leash dangled down between her jutting breasts. Mindy again backed down to the drawer and came up with shiny chrome handcuffs. She tuned to her friend and backed toward her. "Now take these, clip one over one wrist, and then fasten your hands behind you." "I thought we'd be doing this downstairs." "We are. But I have to take you down, to present you to Master." "Master? You're kidding, I don't have to -" "If you want out, now's the time. But we have ground rules, and if you want to play..." Mindy left the rest unsaid. Amy Lynn sighed, looked at her image in the mirror, and then in 2 loud "clicks", cuffed her hands behind her back. Mindy backed to her friend, snagged up the loop end of the leash, and led Amy Lynn through the house, towards the basement stairs. ****************** I heard two sets of heels clomping their way down the stairs and stood ready in the middle of the room. Slave Mindy led her charge directly to me. She turned and bent forward at the waist, holding the leash loop for me to take. I let her hold that position a while. Amy Lynn and I met eyes, her head held high by the stiff collar, her breasts pressing provocatively against her red blouse. "Hi Amy Lynn, you look great," I said, allowing a slight smile to escape my otherwise stony exterior. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. "We wanted to thank you for your hard work in converting this basement. It's beautiful." "We were both pleased at how it turned out, and hoped you would be pleased too," Amy Lynn responded. I said nothing. Mindy still bent, holding the leash. Amy Lynn began to look nervous. "Is that it?" I asked. "What?" Amy Lynn, confused. "Mindy," I took the leash from her hand. Slave Mindy told her friend, "You must say Master, or Sir. Try it again." Amy Lynn flushed, then looked me straight in the eye and uttered three words in precise cadence. "Yes. Sir. Master." I led my prize to the heavy coffee table and commanded her to sit, and had Mindy perch beside her. Then I led up the wheeled tripod with our digital camera. Amy Lynn turned red with embarrassment. She started to bluster, but stopped. I took a few snapshots, then directed them to turn slightly, more back-to-back so I could see their bound hands. They complied. More pictures. Lastly, I placed the length of Amy Lynn's leather leash across Mindy's lips. She bit the leather, holding it, and I have this great shot of Mindy sitting straight-backed, Amy Lynn having to lean slightly into Mindy due to the short length of her slave leash. [PHOTO] I wheeled the tripod out of the way, and moved the full length mirror behind me, so that Amy Lynn could watch herself transform. As I bent to undo her boots, I commanded Slave Mindy to get the items I had left atop the washing machine in the other room. I pulled off Amy Lynn's heeled boots, then helped her to her feet. I undid the trouser snap and pushed the jeans off, pulling them down her legs, and helping her step out of them. To my delight, I found she was wearing black leather French-cut panties. I placed the boots back on her feet, and fastened leather cuffs to each ankle. 12 inches/30 cm of chain held them loosely together. I was unbuttoning her brilliant red blouse and getting a peek at the matching black leather bra when my slave finally returned, gripping items behind her back. Slave Mindy looked red-faced and somewhat out of breath. She dropped the two items on the table and stood by for instructions. I finished with the blouse, pushing it back over her shoulders. Amy Lynn sat at attention in our black leather collar with leash, her own black leather panty and bra set, her boots cuffed together, and wrists fastened with steel. "What took you so damn long?" I asked Mindy. "I'm, I'm sorry, sir, you put the items so far back on the washer that I couldn't reach them very easily." "It was a mindlessly simple task. Can't you do anything right, you twit?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amy Lynn's eyes positively shining, riveted on the scene, and flush with red at my words to Slave Mindy. "Well if you can't help me, I must get you out of our way. Go stand in the corner, you ninny." Mindy lowered her head and walked slowly to the corner of the room. She stood facing the wall. "Bitch, I said get in that corner!" I exploded, and Amy Lynn's head turned to see just how angry I was. Mindy shuffled forward until the toes of her high heeled pumps touched the walls. Then she leaned into the corner, nose at the joint, her heavy breasts spreading slightly as they pressed each wall. Although all we could see her crossed wrists and the back of her stylish short hair-cut, we heard just the faintest, slightest... sob. [PHOTO] From the look on her face, Amy Lynn couldn't believe what she was seeing. I snugged a belt around her waist, then uncuffed one wrist, locking the empty cuff on the belt. I pulled that red sleeve from her arm, then threaded a wide leather cuff around the wrist. I held up the pink t-shirt that my slave had fetched. "You're wearing this," I announced, and pulled her one arm through the armhole, and her head through the neck hole. I repeated the procedure with the other arm, and with a short two-headed clip, secured her leather bound wrists behind her. Mindy had modified an older V-neck T-short of her own, grown thin with washings. She had cut inches off the bottom to make a midriff shirt, and had scissored the neckline lower. As Amy Lynn was just slightly larger than Mindy, she all but swelled in the tight garment, the outline of her leather bra very apparent. I tugged on the leash for her to arise, then led her to the armchair which we had moved to the center of the room. Slowly, I had her kneel in the seat of it, facing over the chair's back. "Slave Mindy, do you think you are up to a simple task now?" Her quiet but determined voice came back, "Yes Master." "Bring me that bag now." She practically ran to the table, snatched the bag, and bought it to me. I had her hold the slave's leash in her bound hands, and the shorter angle forced Amy Lynn to lean further forward. I opened the lingerie bag and placed the three treasures on the back of the seat. I already had the wide strip of medical adhesive tape standing by. "Master, may I speak?" Mindy said. I nodded. "I think you should make her say it," she said. Amy Lynn's eyes widened, confused. "All right," I said. I held up two of the loose garments. "Do you know what these are?" Amy Lynn nodded but stayed silent. Mindy tugged at the leash. "What are these?" I repeated. "Panties, sir," She glared at Mindy, who was smiling devilishly now. "Can you guess whose?" "Hers, I suppose, Sir." "See how they are wrinkly? Would you guess that they are fresh?" She knelt still, her lips sealed shut. I balled one of my wife's underpants in one hand, and held the back of my new slave's neck. "Open." I commanded. She slowly parted her lips then opened her mouth, and I shoved the soiled underwear into her mouth. She gagged slightly, then gathered herself. My fingers pressed a second pair past her lips and teeth. Then the third I held up, brushed across her face, held against her nose for a few seconds to guarantee she caught the aroma, then packed that in her mouth as well. Two wipe strips of adhesive tape were pressed across her lips and fully packed mouth. "Now what do you make of that, pet? You prefer a woman's clit to a man's dick? Enjoy." I crossed behind her and took the heavy dartboard from the wall. It had been mounted on a wide and secure cleat; and revealed three thick, sturdy metal rings. I helped Amy Lynn from the kneeling position and moved her to the wall. I unclipped the leash from her collar, and with another double-head clip, attached her leather collar to the center ring. While she was in no danger, she did look bizarre, as if lynched with her hands behind her back, her mouth gagged. [PHOTO]. We reoriented the mirror so that Amy Lynn could see herself. I took a wide black marker from my pocket. "What do you think, Slave Mindy?" Standing by the recliner, Mindy looked thoughtful, then said, "slut." With the marker, I wrote in large letters across the new slave's chest "S-L-U-T". I stepped back to admire my work. "Mindy, can you manage to get the spreader bar?" She went to the closet, opened it with her bound hands, and quickly seized the meter-long rod and brought it to me. I unchained one ankle, then attached the end of the bar. Amy Lynn was forced to spread her legs as I fastened them wide apart. While kneeling in front of her, I caught the scent of her aroma. She was incredibly turned on. I uncuffed her wrists and pulled them to each of the rings on the mounting cleat. She stood spread-eagle, glaring at us, her face flushed. And the only thing to do was to uncap a red marker and write across her white tape gag: "C-U-N-T" [PHOTO] With the open armed recliner next to the full length mirror, Amy Lynn got an eyeful: her choice of either her bound self in her "slut" t-shirt and leather panties, or us as I secured Mindy in the recliner, length after length of rope holding each forearm and wrist to an armrest. Ropes drew her ankles back to the back legs of the chair. Amy Lynn soon saw that my wife wore no panties. Three of the seatbelt-style straps held her torso to the chair back. I fetched the pecker gag from the drawer and detoured past to visit Amy Lynn. I held the fake member up to her face, caressing her cheek with it. "How about it now, Slave? Would some cock feel good down there? Instead of sucking my slave's used underpants?" Amy Lynn flushed scarlet. I kissed Mindy passionately, earned a grin from her, then slid the cock between her lips, buckling the strap behind her. I fondled her breasts, trapped as they were between the belts above and below. For Amy Lynn, I passed rope around her waist and up between her outstretched legs and fashioned a nice tight crotch rope. I ran the far end of it up to her collar ring. With some innovative wiggling on her part, she just might find some release from her frustration. I snapped on the TV/VCR combo and started a favorite tape of mine, featuring women in various stages of both being bound, and struggling in their bonds. There were an unusual number of highlights: surprised sorority roommates, cuffed cousins, and other beauties tied together. Food for thought for our guest, and a frustrating turn-on for my wife, I thought, as I headed upstairs to let them stew. * * * * * About 30 minutes later, I started downstairs again. Gagged moans of protest had drifted up the stairs from the TV. As I stepped downstairs, I caught the scent of dripping pussy. Mindy was flushed red from the throat up, and groaned at me, trying to communicate around the thick rubber cock in her mouth and throat. In response, I massaged her tits through her sheer nylon top and black bra. I ran hands all over her body, as she closed her eyes to my touch. Her thighs were slick with juice, and I got my fingers good and wet before visiting Amy Lynn. She too was wild with frustration. I smeared my wife's pussy juices over Amy Lynn's tits and the tape gag, so she could enjoy the full aroma. On the TV, a brunette and redhead were hogtied side-by-side, straining at their ropes. It had a maddening effect on Amy Lynn. With a marker, I wrote on her bare thigh, starting high on her thigh and writing sideways down to her knee: "D-R-I-P-P-I-N-G". On her T-shirt at the belly, I wrote: "P-U-S-S-Y L-I-C-K-E-R". If this bitch wanted humiliation, I was going to accommodate her. [PHOTO] My wife's protests drew my attention and I unbuckled her pecker gag and withdrew it, a long string of saliva accompanying it. "Master, may I please have some water?" I held the cup for her to refresh herself. "Master, how may I pleasure you? I want to pleasure you sir. I can't take much more of this." She flexed gloved fingers, trying to move her arms under the coils and coils of white rope. I agreed it was about time for her to relieve me, as my cock was straining to the bursting. I undid the strapping and ropes, pausing only to snap the chrome handcuffs on, capturing her wrists in front of her. I helped my unsteady slave to her feet. "Now slave, I don't want to forget our guest. You haven't forgotten her, now have you?" I asked. Mindy's broad mouth smiled. In response to my question, Amy Lynn had not managed to achieve orgasm. I directed Mindy to take the pecker gag over to her friend, and thread one strap through the leather panty waistband. The rubber cock hung off Amy Lynn's waist, dangling just inches from her pussy mound. Amy Lynn looked almost delirious with frustration as the bulbous head swayed so close to her vagina. On screen, the brunette and redhead had been retied face to face, each with wrists tied in front of them, around the torso of her partner. They wore a double ball gag, which made it seem as if they were kissing. I took the inspiration. "Now I want you to get in close to this slave, rubbing your breasts against hers. And with your hands in front of you as they are, I'm sure Amy Lynn would appreciate a tug on that crotch rope." Mindy complied, pressing herself against our new slave, running her hands over the leather panty, working the crotch rope deep into Amy Lynn's slit. Mindy kissed her friend's face, panted in her ear and whispered foul things to her. I lifted her skirt for a better view of my wife's ass. Here's the two of them together: [PHOTO] Mindy backed away and I gave her the marker pen. She knelt and with cuffed hands wrote on the T-shirt: "H-O-R-N-Y B-I-T-C-H." I lifted the T-shirt over Amy Lynn's breasts and unhooked the leather bra. I massaged her breasts roughly. From her gasps, Amy Lynn welcomed the attention. I arranged the bra cups out of the way, pulled the shirt back down. Mindy had fetched the scissors. I pulled the material away from our slave's erect nipple and with a careful snip, cut the thin cotton material. It sprang back into place, Amy Lynn's tits and areola poking through the material. "For all the world to see," I said, as she blushed even darker. A second or two later and both tits were on display. Amy Lynn watched her own form in the mirror. Mindy had been rubbing her own clit furiously through the short dress and I acknowledged she needed relief. "Get me a wide scarf, slave." Mindy flew to the toy drawer and brought back the requested article. I held it up to Amy Lynn, and despite her protesting moans, covered her eyes and head with several windings, then tied off the blindfold. I bent Mindy over the arm of the chair in which she had been tied, where she could smell her own juice in its seat. As she leaned forward on her elbows, wrists cuffed in front of her, I easily entered her from behind. I pumped her at a slow, luxurious pace. I could see the tied beauties on the TV, then look over at my newfound bound slave on the wall. And watch my sex slave throw her head from side to side, panting and talking filth. Amy Lynn could hear the two of us fucking, could hear the gagged moans and protests from the TV. She writhed in her bondage, desperate for relief. And then Mindy came. She was very vocal about it, groaning, pleading, gasping. And that sensation, coupled with the visual spectacle before me, caused my cock to pulse and shoot wads of cum into my slave's hot snatch. Slave Mindy and I collapsed on the futon sofa and I uncuffed her wrists. We cuddled in post-coital bliss while Amy Lynn stood before us, all but stamping her feet in frustration. Mindy and I whispered privately and intimately, too softly for Amy Lynn to hear. Then Mindy went clumping up the stairs in her heels. I recoiled rope and put away the belts. When I heard the shower start upstairs, I took a leather belt from the drawer. Without warning I slashed at Amy Lynn's thighs, breasts, and stomach. She wailed in surprise and pain at the unexpected assault. I unhooked her collar from the ring, then loosened the leather collar and removed it. I unhooked her ankles from the spreader bar and drew them together, re-hooking the short chain. I restarted the cassette in the VCR and set the volume just loud enough for Amy Lynn to hear. Then I too, left her, chained to the wall in our dark basement. ****************** A while later we both went back downstairs. Slave Amy Lynn had slumped in her bonds, her dark hair cascading over her face. She wearily raised her head as we approached, and we both saw at once that she had been crying. Clear mucus ran across her "cunt" tape gag, and mascara streaks had run from under the silken blindfold and dried on her cheeks. For a moment I thought, damn, I had gone too far. I looked at my wife. She grinned manically and held up a palm. High Five! Mindy took the marker pen and wrote something new on the T-shirt, across our slave's ribcage. We unhooked each cuff and slowly lowered Amy Lynn's exhausted arms. Each taking a side, we dragged her from the wall, and laid her on the carpet, her ankles still chained together. Mindy situated the girl's head in her lap, and wiped her still-covered face with a damp washcloth as I vigorously rubbed life into our slave's arms. "You've served well, Slave Amy. For a treat, I brought down your new mistress, Mistress Mindy." "Shush, just rest for a moment, baby. Catch your breath. Unless you want to stop?" her mistress asked. A few moments ticked by. Amy Lynn tugged a hand loose from my rubbing and touched the spot on her shirt where Mindy had last written. "Do you want to know what that says?" Mistress asked. A nod. I responded. "It says FUCK TOY." Amy Lynn gave a girlish giggle behind her heavy gag, then reached up and awkwardly stroked my wife's face. Clearly, she wasn't ready to give in. I said, "I know. Let's take this one to the club. Like that last girl." Amy Lynn stiffened as we talked. "Oh, that curly redhead. What was her name? Laura, maybe," Mindy responded. She wiped her charge's throat with the cloth. "That was a heavy scene, too much for this baby girl. It's only her first night." "O.K., but maybe she'd enjoy the story." I explained how the girl Laura had been used in much the same manor as Amy Lynn. We had first violated her at home, then clad her in an indecent shirt with foul promises written on it. She was chained, thrown a long coat over her, and taken to an s/m club. We had chained her by the collar to a pole, and throughout the night men and women both had fondled her, licked her, even probed her with sweaty digits. As I shared the gruesome details, Amy Lynn's nipples hardened anew. "No, I have plans for this little twat," Mistress Mindy said. "There's a dark desolate road that I want to set her on, and make her walk a mile to us, hands behind her, tits freezing through that shirt." Amy Lynn squealed in alarm at the prospect. "Get the blue tape." I retrieved some spongy sport tape from the play drawer as Mindy worked loose the blindfold knot. "Now, keep your eyes shut so I can clean some of that goo away." Mindy wiped at the girl's mascara stained features. "Now." I started wrapping the sports tape around her head, but Mindy took over the chore herself. "You do it too tight." "What's too tight for you might be just right for this slave," I told her. I smoothed out the dirty scarf, and with the blindfold job done, we flipped Amy Lynn onto her stomach, drawing arms behind her, and I wrapped her wrists in the stained scarf, knotting it several times. Mindy meanwhile replaced the ankle cuffs with wind after wind of rope. Then she roped the girl's knees together, passing ropes around, between, and seemingly every which way. Houdini couldn't have gotten loose. [PHOTO] We worked together to stand her, and by her posture, Amy Lynn was puzzled as ever. With a quick motion, I squatted and pulled her over my shoulder. She squealed, more helpless than ever, ass in the air, bound arms flailing behind her. Mindy gave her a swift slap on the ass and ordered her to be quiet. Then another slap for good measure. We slowly went up the stairs. I passed through the kitchen, through the connecting door to the garage, and laid my burden in the back of our SUV. Mindy was right there with more ropes, and we tied our prisoner in a loose ball tie, securing the rope through anchors in the car floor. Amy Lynn protested as best she could, wailing behind the sodden gag, but really - who was in charge here? We arranged a blanket over her, and slammed the car door shut. Mindy had collected the girl's coat and handbag, and gave me a kiss before opening the garage door and darting out. I started the SUV, pulled out of the garage, pushed the automatic button to close the door, and started out. It was a short enough drive, and Amy Lynn was surprisingly quiet. Although I'm certain her pulse was pounding in her chest and ears. Presently, I brought the SUV to a stop, waited a few moments with the radio blaring loudly, then shut off the car and got out. Together we opened the SUV door, pulled the blanket from our parcel and began undoing the few fastenings that held her in the car. This time I lifted her in my arms, and like a bridegroom, carried her over the threshold, down a hallway, and deposited her onto a bed. Invisible to our slave, Mindy had driven Amy Lynn's car to her home, used the garage opener to let me pull in with the SUV, then shut us all in. As much as we could, we gave Amy Lynn no clue as to where she was. We removed enough rope to get at those sodden leather panties. I shucked them off. Mindy meanwhile rifled through drawers and came back with new pink panties and the girl's personal vibrator. She shook the batteries out of it onto the floor. "No more than we want her to have," she whispered cruelly. I worked the fake cock up into the girl's sopping pussy, enjoying her high pitched squeal. Then we pulled panties up to held it in place. The base stuck out obscenely in the fresh underwear, but it would serve. I rewrapped her legs together. Mindy meanwhile had found some pantyhose tights. She pulled them down over the girl's head, completely masking her features. Then we ran ropes across her back, shoulders and legs, cinching her up into a severe ball tie. Last, we wrote once more, this time on her back: PUSSY SLAVE. We left her in the bedroom, shutting the door firmly. Then we hung the leather panties off her backporch doorknob, and left the outdoor light on. Mindy had that morning phoned the ex-girlfriend Gen and explained how Amy Lynn was desperate for reconciliation. She had promised Amy Lynn would be waiting for her that night with a great surprise. And then we went home. ******************* About 5 days later Mindy called me at work to say Amy Lynn and Gen had visited her at home, delivering an enormous gift basket. "She also brought back all of our things: the scarf, rope, my, err... intimates. All freshly laundered and straightened out. Amy Lynn said she had enjoyed the best time. Gen said it was a great night, unwrapping her present. Amy Lynn said she was frightened beyond belief when Gen lay hands on her. Oh but there was one thing..." "What's that?" "She wanted to keep a souvenir. Gen and Amy Lynn both, they love her in that shirt."
Changing Spaces Holiday Marathon Highly readable account of a pixie-ish home decorating diva who, along with a woman carpenter friend, works to satisfy her master, the narrator. M/f+, BDSM, spoof, lingerie, toys, consensual, reluctant. *************** Chapter 3 - Home Again Saturday morning Even after breakfast I was tired. I had an annoying headache that wouldn't go away. MORE TO COME.
Changing Spaces Holiday Marathon Highly readable account of a pixie-ish home decorating diva who, along with a woman carpenter friend, works to satisfy her master, the narrator. M/f+, BDSM, spoof, lingerie, toys, consensual, reluctant. *************** Chapter 4 - Home Savvy Sunday morning I was surprised when Mindy made her appearance Sunday morning wearing a Green Bay Packers foot ball jersey. "You're kidding, right?" I asked. "No way." She turned around to display the number "4" on her back. "See? Green Bay's going to win over Chicago today." Mindy knows little about football. I immediately decided to capitalize on her delightful ignorance. "If Green Bay loses to Chicago, I get to tie you up any way I want to." She grinned at me. "And if you lose...?" "If Chicago loses, I'll put on a tie and take you out to a fancy dinner. And if Green Bay loses, I put you in a restrictive tie and we stay in for dinner. How's that?" It was a bet. We settled on our basement futon couch to watch the game, Mindy wearing her oversized jersey, nylon sweatpants, white anklets and white gym shoes. As the game came on at noon, and she started listening to the announcers, she exclaimed, "What do you mean, Favre's not playing?" "Can't play. Twisted his knee in Atlanta last week. At least two games off." She turned on me. "You knew this? That's not fair! No bet!" "Sure it's fair, and you can't cancel the bet. You read the same newspaper I do every morning. Is it my fault you don't read the sports section?" Chicago received the kick-off. 9 plays later, Chicago 3, Green Bay 0. I took a length of white cotton cord and carefully roped Mindy's ankles tightly together. "Well this stinks," she said. "If you want another beer, you'll have to get it yourself." "Fair enough." Green Bay ball. 3 plays, and they are forced to punt. Chicago ball. Our star punt returner slips 2 tackles and rumbles in from 86 yards out. Chicago 10 to Green Bay's 0. A thick band of white rope around my wife's knees. As the game progresses, Mindy gets more and more animated, pleading and developing increasingly complicated wagers. By half time, her wrists are bound behind her, and lashed to her waist. I drape a length of rope over the back of her neck, pull up the front of her sweatshirt and tie the wad of material up, displaying her bare breasts for my continued enjoyment. "Very nice," she groans at me. "I want to renegotiate my contract." "Don't blame you," I say. "You got any insight into the Indianapolis Colts vs. the New York Giants? That's on after this." "But there's a movie on Lifetime I really wanted to see... How about this? If Green Bay can score a touchdown in the second half, you let me loose and I watch the movie." "If not?" She sighs. "If not, I put on a saucy outfit, high heels, and you do with me what you will." "Two touchdowns," I counter. "You have a good team, they might get one touchdown. Two TDs will make it more sporting." "Agreed." With their first possession, Green Bay does march down the field, burns a lot of time off the clock, and scores 6 points. Mindy whoops with delight, twisting and flopping about like a landed flounder. Then the kicker shanks the extra point. Her endless stream of obscenities and profanities offends my sensibilities so deeply that there's nothing left to do but cleave gag her with a long yellow scarf. She takes some consolation in the fact it accessories with her lifted jersey. Almost too soon (for me that is) the game comes to an end. I reluctantly untie her ankles, then her knees. I stop there, and send her to get me a beer from our refrigeratr upstairs. She glares at me, but obediently mounts the stairs, fumbles a bit in the kitchen, then returns with the bottle, having to turn backwards to present it to me. I take the bottle in one hand, then slap her ass with my other open palm, chastising her for taking too long. I undo the final knots and remove the gag. She drinks greedily from my open beer. "Now, there was something about a slutty outfit?" I say. She blushes prettily. "May I request some impossibly high heels?" "You may," she responds coyly, "if I may have a request of my own?" She runs to the bondage drawer and returns with an object. "Can you use this new red ball gag? When you use the white one, my mouth is stretched so impossibly wide, my jaw hurts for a day or more." "I can go along with that. Now go change, this New York game is starting." She's upstairs the best part of 20 minutes and I'm wondering what's taking her when I hear the tentative clop-clop of high heels on the kitchen floor and then on our stairs. As she comes down the stairs into view, I wolf-whistle appreciatively. I am a lucky man! Four-inch spiky black pumps. Nylon encased calves, knees, and thighs, ending in wide black bands at the top of her thighs. Tight black panties, allowing just a hint of her ass curves to jut out at the sides. Black push up corset, displaying full cleavage. She's wearing a lot of slutty make-up, but perhaps best of all, she's wearing a longer wig. Mindy has a short pixish haircut, which looks great on her. But at times I wish she had long luxiousious hair. And now she does. It's a long brown wig, with the strands of hair just brushing her shoulders. In fact, in a certain light and angle, with the make-up and long hair, she looks a lot like a certain savvy host of a home improvement show. No flannel shirts for my babe, though. As the first quarter elapses, I tie my bride's wrists behind her, around the pole in our basement. Then I bind her elbows almost together around the same pole. I tie the ankles, then the thighs, finishing each tie around the pole. She has a bit of room to strain, paw the carpet with her high heels, and shift in her bonds, but she's not going anywhere. I stroke her face, the long hair against my fingers and her cheek as I kiss her passionately. Then it's gag time. She accommodates me by squealing unintelligibly as I buckle it in place. With more rope, I bind her upper chest, and rib cage to the pole, neatly framing her heavy breasts. Then I step back to admire my work. She tries to smile around the heavy ball in her mouth, her eyes dance and flirt with me as she twists in her bondage, showing off all her assets as she ties pointlessly to escape. So I settle on the couch, my thick dick pulsing, one hand around a beer bottle, the other holding the remote, watching my ball game, and looking over very often at my horny beautiful captive, roped to the pole, straining for release.
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